


Christmas Cookies

by InkAtHeart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels suck at making cookies, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Sabriel Secret Santa 2019 (Supernatural), mentions of Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkAtHeart/pseuds/InkAtHeart
Summary: This is not my usual kind of fic, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Happy Holidays.Thank you to QuickSilverMalec on the Sabriel Discord for beta-ing for me.This is a gift for JonesyAndrews on AO3. I hope you like it, but I know I'm bad at fluff haha.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	Christmas Cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JonesyAndrews](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonesyAndrews/gifts).



It had been a long week. Well, it had been a long  _ year _ . Or maybe a few long years. Sam Winchester always went to bed exhausted, unconscious before his head even hit the pillow. He could sleep because he knew he was safe, because he had his own room with a door, a lock, a gun on his nightstand, and a secure location. The Bunker had been a blessing. A new home ever since they’d lost Bobby.

It had been such a long road getting to the Bunker, but it was worth it in the end. Sam, Dean, Castiel, and now even Gabriel all had a home.

This was why, when Sam woke at four in the morning to the smell of smoke, terror gripped him stronger than he would have expected. He launched himself out of bed, half asleep and barely cognizant, gun in hand and quickly being tucked into the back hem of his pants while he ran for the door. He had taken to keeping it open so that he could listen for any trouble in the Bunker, or in this case the smell the smoke from a fire.

The air wasn’t thick, so it was likely a small fire. His brain was quickly waking up and processing the data streaming in. He abandoned alerting Dean in favor of rushing down the hall. There was a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, and the closer he got the better he could see that the kitchen was the source of the fire. Smoke was lazily curling out of the space at the top of the door. Why wasn’t the fire alarm going off? Or the sprinklers?

He grabbed the frame as he swung into the kitchen, scanning the room for damage, and was a little surprised by what he found…

The kitchen was a disaster. Filthy bowls on the counters and in the sink, measuring cups and spatulas (where had those even come from?) strewn over the space. The floor was covered with flour, footprints running through.

The source of the smoke was the open oven. Two angels covered in flour and sugar fanning a sheet pan with their hands, trying to cool down several rows of black discs. They were so engrossed in their actions that they failed to notice Sam had come running in.

“I do not think that this device is supposed to smoke like this…” Castiel’s gravelly voice pointed out.

“Of course it’s not,” Gabriel scoffed, “Why do you think I turned off the fire alarms. It’s not like I use these things. Magic is  _ way _ easier. Why can’t I just magic them in again?”

“Because I was informed that ‘real cookies’ are the only way to enjoy them.” The younger sighed and stepped back to fold his arms. That was when he noticed Sam and a startled expression formed on his face.

“Is Dean questioning the authenticity of magicked cookies again? Because after this experience I’ll just magic a bunch of cookies right in his mouth and watch him—” Gabriel noticed Castiel’s expression, then turned to find Sam in the doorway. His expression turned bright and only slightly nervous, “Sammy! Morning?”

Sam just sighed out a breath of relief. The Bunker wasn’t about to burn down, he just had the worst Keebler Elves in the world in his kitchen. “I smelled smoke,” he pointed towards the direction he’d come, “Why are you making cookies at four in the morning?” He kept any anger out of his voice, mostly because there wasn’t any anger there to begin with. The sight he found was almost endearing.

Almost. He figured he would be doing all the cleaning.

Castiel cocked his head to the side curiously, “I was informed that it is a common American tradition to make cookies for an entity called ‘Santa’ on Christmas Eve. Gabriel was excited by the idea.”

“I’m sure he was,” Sam laughed gently, “Santa is made up, it’s a story we tell kids to encourage them to be good. Also,” he came forward and reached over to the oven to turn a knob with a loud click, “You had it on broil, which would be why your cookies turned into hockey pucks.”

“I do not understand why you would lie to children to make them behave,” Castiel hummed as he watched Sam set the oven right and make some space on the counter.

“It gives them something to be happy for. When I was young, I was just happy that there was some monster out there who wanted to do good things with its powers,” Sam reasoned with a shrug. He knew it sounded weird, but he also knew he didn’t have a normal childhood. “What recipe are you guys using anyway?” He searched the counter for signs of it.

Gabriel scoffed and waved his hand, “I don’t need a recipe, Sammy. I’ve been around the block a few times, I know how to make cookies.”

“Uh-huh, that’s why you almost burned the Bunker down?” Sam mused, smirking at Gabriel.

“The recipe was good. It’s not my fault that your oven is broken,” the Archangel defended primly.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Alright. Well, how about we clean this up and I can help you after?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “You seem to forget the kind of power you have right next to you.” He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. Suddenly the kitchen was spotless, with all the bowls, utensils, and ingredients necessary stacked neatly next to the sink.

Sam chuckled and relaxed, “Well that’s one way to go about it.”

“Hey Castiel,” Gabriel glanced to his sibling, “How about you go snuggle up with Deano? Sam and I will take cookie duty.”

Castiel raised a brow and looked skeptical, but then turned his gaze to Sam, asking “will this be acceptable?”

Sam shrugged, “I’m awake now, one of us might as well get some sleep. Dean will be happy to have cookies in the Bunker.”

“I thought the cookies were for Santa?” the younger angel furrowed his brows.

“They are, but there will be plenty for us too.” He straightened upright and went over to the sink to start looking over the supplies available to him and set a mixing bowl aside.

When he turned to look, Castiel had already left and Gabriel was leaning next to him, looking somewhat cautious. “What’s wrong?” he finally asked the Archangel while he grabbed a measuring cup and started to measure up the dry ingredients. He knew a basic recipe that Jess had taught him a long time ago…

“Didn’t mean to wake you. Or scare you.” Gabriel was usually so unrepentant, so hearing the caution in his voice made Sam look up again.

“It’s fine. Nothing was  _ actually _ on fire,” Sam smirked and shrugged, “Besides, I haven’t thought about Christmas cookies in ages. I uh, I actually forgot it  _ was _ Christmas.”

Gabriel huffed, “Well, it’s not like Christmas was when Jesus was actually born. That’s just some BS that was made up a long time ago by humans.”

Sam laughed and pulled over the eggs and a smaller bowl, “I know. But I don’t think that’s what Christmas is about for most people anymore.”

Gabriel let out a curious hum, watching Sam without moving to offer any help.

“It’s about…family. It’s about hope. Making people happy. I mean yeah, it’s commercialized to all hell and back now, but at the end of the day it’s about trying to make your family and friends happy. Reminding them that they’re loved and that you know what they want.” Sam shrugged self-consciously, “Dean and I don’t really celebrate it because we spend so much time around each other. It’s not like we need to remind each other that we’re family.”

Gabriel watched as Sam fumbled at cracking an egg, accidentally crushing the shell with his thumbs as he tried to break it in half. The Archangel snorted, “you’re shit at that.”

Sam scowled, “Well it’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice in breaking eggs.” He tossed the shell in the sink and used his fingers to fish out a piece of shell from the yolk.

“We don’t really have holidays in heaven,” Gabriel finally admitted. “Every day was like one big holiday. At least, back before Luci took a nosedive. After that, things stopped being so…happy. We had to get serious.”

Sam hummed and measured out some butter. “You didn’t want the party to end?”

“It wasn’t about the party. Not really,” Gabriel sighed and finally moved over to pick up the vanilla extract from where it was tucked up by the flour. “It was just that everything felt…different. Everyone was nervous, afraid of each other. Dad left, Mike and Raph took over and it started to feel less and less like home.”

Sam just frowned, trying to think of what to say to that. He focused on the cookies instead, putting the dry and wet ingredients together so he could start to mix them.

Gabriel pulled a spoon out of a drawer next to him and dipped it into one of the glass containers. It wasn’t until the Archangel was lifting the spoon to his mouth that Sam cringed. “You know that’s—” he winced as Gabriel put it in his mouth and his face turned sour, “—baking soda…”

“That’s awful, ugh!” he tossed the spoon aside and went over to the sink to spit the powder out and rinsed his mouth from the tap. Sam couldn’t help but laugh to himself at the sight of it.

“Were you really going to eat a spoonful of sugar?” Sam wondered, incredulous.

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll gain weight or get diabetes.” Gabriel made another face as he tried to banish the last of the taste. He waved his hand to conjure up a can of soda which he cracked open and started to swallow down. It was Sam’s turn to cringe.

“Still, that’s disgusting.”

“We can’t all be rabbits, Sammy. Some of us want more than lettuce and carrots to survive.” Gabriel raised a brow and finished off his drink.

Sam rolled his eyes, “No, but a spoonful of sugar? That has no taste.”

“Hey, what’s that old rule about ‘thou shall not judge’?” Gabriel grabbed a fresh spoon and pointed it at Sam, “Between the two of us, who has more experience with, well, everything?”

“Yeah, and between the two of us, who’s sinned more?” Sam countered with an amused look. He reached over to the flour and pinched a little between his fingers, then flicked it at Gabriel lazily, watching a streak of white powder stripe over the other’s face.

The Archangel looked affronted, pouting and plotting while he reached up to rub the flour from his face. “What, it’s not like anyone’s actually keeping count. Besides, angel sins and human sins are waaay different.”

“How so?” Sam scoffed.

“Well for one thing, angels don’t have souls.” Gabriel finally took a spoonful of sugar and stuck it in his mouth, wiggling his brows as if to show off.

Sam frowned at hearing that, “Cas said something similar a long time ago. You guys really don’t have souls?” He cocked his head, “How does that even work then? You have…personality and thoughts just like us.”

Gabriel shrugged, “Our ‘souls’ are Grace. We use it to cast our magic. Dad made us all with specific jobs in mind, ones that we’re hard-wired to do. Why do you think most angels are so damn stubborn and rigid? Dad originally made us to be his little helper-bees. We couldn’t disobey his command; we didn’t have free will. But souls…he made souls so that they didn’t have to obey his will. If Dad came back right now and asked me to leave, I wouldn’t have a choice.”

Sam’s frown deepened. He tried to process what he was being told while he started to measure out balls for the cookies, pulling a sheet pan over to rest them on. “So…your souls are a little different than ours. Called something different, work a little different, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a soul, in some capacity.”

The Archangel reached over to pluck a ball from the pan, popping it in his mouth. “Hey,” Sam scoffed, “you know I’m doing all the work here, you could at least wait for them to bake.”

Gabriel swallowed the dough and stuck out his tongue, “Thanks for trying. But at the end of the day, Grace and souls are way different.”

“Well, can angels love?” Sam wondered.

“Of course. We were made with love,” Gabriel raised a brow, “Why?”

“Well, you can love, and  _ you _ definitely have free will. You left heaven after all. So…” he smirked, “Maybe it’s that tiny human brain of mine, but it doesn’t sound that different to me.”

Gabriel sighed and fell quiet, his eyes turning a dark shade of honeyed whiskey that meant he was thinking hard about something. Sam always loved the way that the angel’s eyes turned colors – something that was subtle but still present if one paid attention.

He finished up the dough balls and put two sheet pans in the oven while Gabriel was still deep in thought. There was even enough dough left for Sam to coax the Archangel out of whatever memory he was engrossed in. Sam offered out a spoonful of cookie dough, watching the other’s eyes shift back to the present and to the cookie dough on the spoon. He perked up and took the offering happily.

“Welcome back,” Sam huffed with amusement.

Gabriel smirked and swallowed the cookie dough, then looked to the oven, “Looks like we have a few minutes to kill, doesn’t it?” He came forward with an odd expression on his face.

“Seems about right.” He eyed Gabriel warily until he finally deciphered the look on the Archangel’s face and smiled. “I should make cookies more often.”

“I agree,” Gabriel’s arms came up and wrapped around Sam’s shoulders, tugging him down. Sam went without resistance and grinned into the kiss. It was a slow, lazy thing that felt appropriate for five am. There was no urgency or underlying lust, just two people who were comfortable with one another, who enjoyed each other.

At some point Gabriel ended up on the counter, Sam standing between his knees. Another few minutes later, Sam was resting his forehead on Gabriel’s collar while the Archangel’s chin settled atop the crown of Sam’s head.

For Sam, it was the perfect start to Christmas Eve.


End file.
